


A Shot Of That

by ShadowedSword13



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Cullen Rutherford, Awkward Flirting, Background Leliana (Dragon Age), Bad Puns, Coffee, Coffee Puns, Evelyn just wants to study, F/M, It's Leliana's fault, Kinda?, Leliana is devious, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Romance, Soft Cullen Rutherford, Sweet Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedSword13/pseuds/ShadowedSword13
Summary: Honestly.All Evelyn wants to do is sit at her table, enjoy her coffee. And drown herself in her notes. And maybe take intermittent peeks as the barista. Maybe one of those things more than the other.And then Leliana gets involved an just-This is why she can't have nice things.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 13





	A Shot Of That

**A Shot of That**

He looks too rigid and too soft all at the same time and all in the worst of ways.

If he didn’t have a handsome face, a scar that tickled at the crest of his lips, and eyes that looked like honey, he probably would have sent every living creature away out of sheer uncomfortability.

But he does have those rather charming qualities, and from Evelyn’s quite comfortable position on a barstool, sipping the vanilla latte he’d made her – because yes she is a classic white girl sometimes- she could see all the ways in which that he didn’t belong in the shop.

He doesn’t walk so much as march.

Like a toy solider or a painfully-paranoid-ROTC cadet.

It’s apparent in the way his shoulders square when he’s in a hurry, rushing back and forth behind the counter to fill coffee orders or fetch tarts and scones and whatever else the mob desires.

And in the way he doesn’t so much as smile as wear a blank-tight expression all the time. Eyes focused on task, lips pressed thin like if he frowns or smiles someone will descend from the heavens and yell at him.

She wonders if he’s military, or possibly ex-military, given how he rests in the lulls, hands looped either on his belt loops, or slipped behind his back. She can’t imagine either position is terribly comfortable, not with how he wrings his hands out after, not with how he shrugs his shoulders and readjusts his hands when someone walks in the door.

But she supposes that’s not really her place, being his unofficial-official stalker.

“Has he had his three o’clock break?”

Evelyn doesn’t need to move her gaze off the man to know it’s Lelianna that’s snuck up on her, the intel major- IT minor that’s somehow snuck her way into Evelyn’s curious friend group. She’s two years ahead of Evelyn, but there’s still that spark in her eye about classes that she finds hard to imagine a senior having.

“Is it three o’clock yet?” She replies as the red-head slides into the seat across from her, obscuring her favorite barista.

“In two minutes,” but there’s a quirk in Lelianna’s lips that makes Evelyn furrow her own brows. Lelianna is known for two things in the student body. Practically infamous for being able to obtain any and all information that exists and being a Maker-awful cheat.

“What’d you do.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

“Oh nothing.” But her smile remains, and she slides back out of the booth, leaving a boiling hot glob of _something_ in Evelyn’s gut that she’s hoping is just the Indian she had for lunch, and not the fear that Lelianna’s done something.

Two minutes later, when her far-too-trained-far-too-blonde-and-far-too-awkward barista eases the green apron off his neck and locks eyes with her, she knows that hope is in vain.

“I’m going to kill her.” She mutters, making a mental note to figure out who in this school has dirt on Lelianna. Surely there was something she could hold over her head. Something she could do to get back at the conniving little-

“You said you wanted a chat?” His voice is both too soft and too deep, like a rumbling lion tentatively approaching some timid woodland creature. 

“I -uh-well-“ She fumbles, flicking her gaze up from her latte to his honeyed gaze and back down to the dark grain wood table. “Right. Uh. Well. Yeah, I had a few questions if that’s okay.”

He nods, looking all the more awkward for it as he slides into the chair, clasping his hands out in front of him and sitting forward. It’s too much like a soldier at attention for her not to cock an eyebrow.

“I’m Evelyn.”

He smiles, shoulders loosening a hair. “Right. I uh.” He gestures to her coffee. “I remember, you usually order something with caramel in it.”

He remembers her coffee order? Oh hell. She feels the heat creeping up her neck, but hopes the turtle neck and the fact that it’s cold outside, even if she’d been here for an hour, might help disguise it.

“R-right. Uh. Cullen?” She grimaces when it comes out a question, but pushes through. “I was uh. Yeah…” There’s an awkward pause, and apparently he’s embarrassed too because he looks away, one hand easing back to rub his neck.

“I suppose it’s a bit odd to remember someone’s order. But you usually come here around the same time and I suppose it’s not a bit of my routine.” He explains hurriedly. “Like-like a timeline, you show up, and I know I have about a half-hour. And then I uh…” He trails off suddenly. “Not- not that I only remember you because of that, you’re- you are quite fetching.”

Now she’s blushing, and she desperately wants to eject herself from the conversation, and strangle Lelianna and whatever cold fated day caused her to admit she liked the blonde, tall, handsome man that made her coffee with a smile and eyes that were sweeter than her drink most days.

“Thank you.” She mumbles. “I um.” And she swallows, and finally meets his gaze.

“Right.” And he sets his hands on the table, mirroring her posture in a way that makes her think he’s almost as nervous as she is.

And she gathers a breathe and makes conversation, because nothing could be worse than turning this into a mess where she can’t get her daily caffeine fix because she blabbered through the entire man’s break and ruined his afternoon.

Well.

Nothing within reason.

“I guess I just noticed you were always working when I come, and wanted to know a bit more about you- if that’s alright.” She manages to say without stuttering.

And least.

Until he blinks, golden gaze furrowing with thought as he considers her words.

And she rushes to clarify.

“I mean- I just- you’re always here!” She breathes out. “And I thought- ‘wow I wonder what his schedule is that lets him work all the time! Since I see you studying every now and then. And then I didn’t think you were in my major- which is medical bytheway- and I didn’t see you in any of my classes and I wondered if you were a student, but you look a bit old for that-and-oh-I-not-that-you’re-old-I-“ And she snaps her mouth closed because

Damnitshereallywasgoingtojustmakeafooloutofherselftodaywasn’tshe?

But he smiles and the warmth returns to his gaze. And the faintest of chuckles rumbles out of his chest. “Oh.” He replies. Like that answers any of her rushed explanation or her original question.

She blinks, swallows and awkwardly takes a sip of the latte.

“I’m studying Criminal Justice.” He explains. “Light course load. And, yes. I am a bit older.” He offers with a tight smile. “I’m contracted.” He explains.

And then it all makes sense.

He’s a veteran student.

“Oh.” She manages. “How long?”

He shrugs, glancing out the window. “Enlisted at eighteen. Six years. Two different posts. Came back and started school last year.”

“Oh.” And she has to process that.

Eighteen. Six. Plus one.

So…Twenty-five?

“What about you?” He asks, voice soft and tentative-like he’s scared the question might startle her away.

“Oh.” And she flashes a smile. “Evelyn Trevelyan. I’m Pre-Med. Two years in, so I’m a semester shy of being neck deep in studying hell. But I usually have a slot from 2:30 to 4- then I have lab. So I come here.”

Cullen nods, smiles at the information. “Well, that’s nice.” And it’s like he doesn’t know where to take the conversation. “I suppose I’m a bit jealous.” He adds suddenly, “I was never any good with the sciences. Or helping people I suppose.”

And somehow, she can’t believe that. Not with how he smiles.

Not with how he wears a wounded look in his eye with that statement. Like he’s failed someone.

He stands suddenly, a cloudy look in his eyes. “I uh.” He stumbles over his words just like he does his feet. “If you’ll excuse me…” He winches, “Sorry just…” And he swallows and shakes his head. “Another time?” He asks.

“Of course.” She smiles, because she isn’t sure what else that she could say as he pushes open the back door, looking pained. Physically and mentally.

She doesn’t see him in the rest of her time. And has to rush off to lab, her coffee half-finished and what she drank sitting in her stomach cold and unsettled.

* * *

“Just ask him.” Lelianna murmurs in her ear. And while Evelyn is sure that in another context and to another person, her voice might be lovely to listen to in this context. As it is.

She’s three micro-second away from turning around, losing her spot in line and strangling her friend as violently as she can in the middle of the coffeeshop.

It’ll be a pity too. Because then Cullen will likely have to help clean up Lelianna’s corpse from the neat tile floor.

“Lelianna.” Evelyn growls.

“Please.” She huffs and no doubt rolls her eyes. “It’s been two weeks. Neither of you have even managed to speak to each other.

And that she can’t deny. The past dozen times she’s approached him, she manages to mumble out her order or he just knows it off the top of his head. She pays. He makes her drink, tilts his head at her instead of calling her name as a signal.

No communication.

No words.

No nods and head tilts and the crinkling of his eyes.

“And that’s _fine._ ” She stresses the word, because what else can she do.

Lelianna huffs again. “Just ask the man out. If he doesn’t have some form of stress relief, then I think he’s going to blow a gasket.”

The line trickles forward, and Evelyn hears the topic of discussion call out another name.

“No!” She hisses back. “What kind of person would I be? Oh-hey-know you seem to have had a panic attack when you talked to me last, but how about we go to dinner?”

“Or you could shoot him a witty one-liner.” Lelianna bulldozes over the rejection, hopeful smile on her lips.

And now Evelyn glares at her, stepping back as the line trickles down.

“Would you like to spend a latte time with me some night?” Lelianna suggests and - _god that’s just shameful_.

But she bites. “I’m having trouble espresso’ing my feels, but maybe over dinner?”

The infamous Nightingale cracks a smile at that one, eyes glinting with mischief.

And she just. Bites. Goes for it.

“I’m good on coffee, but I’d love a shot of that.” And she winks at Lelianna.

“I’m free next Friday.” Cullen’s voice is soft and amused, and when she looks over at him in absolute horror, she finds him leaning against the counter, waiting for them to order because -oh right- they’re next in line.

Evelyn looks over to Lelianna, who smiles and winks.

Then she looks back at Cullen.

Fuck.

Well.

Might as well go for it.

“What a brew-tiful suggestion.” She winks, smiling at him as a dusting of pink flitters up his neck and to the edges of his cheeks. “Don’t mocha me wait too long.” And it’s terrible. Shamefully bad puns that she should hide in a hole forever for.

But he smiles and laughs. “I’ll pick you up here then.”

Maker damn you Lelianna.

She was never going to live down getting a date from a stupid coffee pun.


End file.
